Dreaming
by Lazerwolf314
Summary: It is in dreams that truths often have a habit of slamming you upside the head; especially when they contain nothing but hope.


Sam is dreaming again.

(Of her; always of her).

Usually, the dream is nothing but a blur of pictures and sounds in the morning. However, something is different.

Pain claws at his chest, angry little talons of guilt and loss shredding his insides with controlled attacks. Each day, there is a bigger piece of him missing, a little bit more having vanished during the night.

(The night is when his demons come of and play).

It was not the first time he dreams of her; nor the last, but it is in this moment, unlike countless before, that he comes to realize just what he so carelessly threw away. What he turned his back on.

It isn't the cold and empty side of the bed, the absence of another warmth in his home, it isn't the lack of her familiar scent on his sheets, nor the partnership he had always valued cracking beneath his feet that forces Sam to truly see.

By God, how he wish he didn't have to see, just to find relief from the terrible anguish of loneliness.

("What do you dream about?" Andy asks one day, out of the blue, as they sit in bed and share some chips. She is seated cross legged beside hims, he is sprawled on his back, one hand idly tracing patterns on the expanse of her bare thigh. He thinks she is doing a remarkable job of ignoring him; he can feel the goosebumps under the pads of his fingers.

Snagging another salt coated chip from the bag, she elaborates when she sees his confused expression.

"I don't mean, dream in life," she articulates, guessing with one arm so that his loose shirt slips from her shoulder to expose tanned flesh. Catching his gaze, she simply smirks and continues. "I mean like, sleep dreams."

To show she's finished, she pops the chip in her mouth and chews happily, all the while watching him intently.

"I don't usually remember," Sam finally offers, lifting her hand to his mouth in order to lick away the remaining salt. When her eyes start to glaze, he pulls her onto him and the conversation of dreams is dropped.)

It is the fantasy of a life where she hadn't vanished and he hadn't broken the only promise she'd asked of him.

In his mind's eye, the picture itself is fuzzy on the edges, but Sam can see with startling clarity. He is in an unfamiliar apartment (some hidden sense tells him it's their apartment) and making his way down a hallway.

At the end, the confines open into a wide area, filled with the soft glow from the fire place. The living room radiates comfort and peace and the tension at the base of Sam's spine lessens.

Padding around the couch softly, he finds Andy sound asleep across the cushions, light and shadow glimmering over the expanse of her face. One hand is tucked to her chest; the other is curled beneath her cheek. Long brown hair lays in a half hazard tangle over the pillow and she breathes softly.

The sight of her takes away Sam's breath and for a moment, all he can do is watch this beautiful woman before him. He is mesmerized by her.

It is only when a small frown creases her face and her shoulders shiver minutely, is he spurred forward. With love blossoming in his chest, he moves close and carefully scoops her into his arms, askance knit blanket and all.

She shifts into him, burrowing her face into his chest and his heart swells. When she finally settles, he makes his way back down the hall to their room.

Just as he is laying her down, she mumbles sleepily, "love you Sam."

The words are a familiar sound; she tells him this every day and it still exhilarates him, but they strike deep. For, this is Andy at her most unguarded state; anything she says is pure and unfiltered and it makes his face explode into a grin.

"I love you too sweetheart," he tells her, stroking a gentle hand down her cheek before he pulls up the blankets and tucks her in.

When Sam finally bolts to wakefulness, the space beside him seems to hiss in anger.

Every detail of the dream becomes perfectly embossed in his mind.

It is the first dream he remembers in absolute clarity.

Upon this dawning and the understanding that what had just occurred was not reality, Sam drops his head in his hands and weeps.

He weeps for him and for her. For his foolishness and her pain and all the regrets in between.

(He weeps for love).

.

_A small arc that ties 3.10 and 3.13 together. Because I truly believe that something much like this smashed Sam in the gut._

_Please, tell me what you thought, as_ _I really needed to release some_ _angst after all the Christmas fluff (which you've hopefully taken a chance to look at)._


End file.
